Waiting for your call
by Zevlin
Summary: Bella is waiting for Edward to call and as she waits she narrates all the stupid and random things she feels and does.


A/N: I found myself sitting in the gallery staring outside waiting for the person I like to call while trying not to check the phone every few seconds. To distract myself I decided to write and this is what my brain spewed out. Have fun. I'm listening to The Fray on random and the quote that got me to actually write this was

"All my days spent by the telephone. It never rang, when all I needed was a call. It never came…Early morning, city breaks. But I've been calling for years and years and years and years and you never left me no messages, you never sent me no letters. You've got some kinda nerve. It's taking all I want."

-The Fray; You found me

WAITING FOR YOUR CALL

Bella

I take deep breath, blinking in rapid succession as the tears threatened to fall, trying to make them go away without actually having to rub my eyes. That was a sure way to make me start bawling my eyes out. The tears were from me being too stupid for caring than anything else. Surely, a boy wasn't making my tear ducts act up. It has never happened before and I stubbornly assured myself that it never would.

When I was sure the traitorous tears would not fall if I started blinking normally I took deep calming breath, breathing out through my mouth, trying to sort out my conflicting thoughts.

I checked my phone for the second time in that minute.

No missed calls.

No new messages.

With a sigh, I locked my phone and placed it on the fragile glass tabletop once again. The lack of light on the screen meant I was pathetic for even checking. The reason for my immense stupidity.

Of course, he isn't going to call.

Sigh.

That was exactly my problem. Me.

He hadn't called in two days, this being day two and I was holding firm on my personal rule. I don't call people. You wanna talk to me, call.

Yeah…

Also that fact that Edward Cullen was perfection. Ok, so let's say maybe I'm exaggerating. He's not exactly perfect. Not exactly a saint either. There were better-looking guys out there. Namely movie stars and rock stars but at this very moment of frustration and stubbornness, he is my perfection and compared to him I just don't compare.

Me. With the bushy eyebrows, skinny frame and too pale complexion. I don't see what he can like but of course I'm the only one who knows I think that way. Never a good sign to portray lack of confidence in yourself to a guy. Maybe seeing me today made him realize that he can do so much better than Isabella Swan.

I sigh once again and sit at my table, phone next to me. Pen in hand I pull my tiny note pad towards me and start writing.

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU

I hate that you make me wait and wait and wait and you never call

I hate that you make me forget that you're a bad idea when we talk.

I hate that you make me smile

I hate that when I see you I forget to think

I hate you for making me like you

I hate that you make me conscious of- make me question- the way I look

I hate that I'm always anxious to see you

I hate your name

I hate that I'm thinking of you right now

I hate that I'm still waiting for you

This was the exact reason why I had decided for myself that I did not want any 'potential' male friends. Just friends my ass. I liked him. I hate feeling like this. The deep need, the urge to hear his voice. Those vile, mature, childish, random monologues he speaks. I long to see his name on my phone as it lights up.

I hate this.

I press the end button on my phone again, the pretence of checking the time. It lighted up for two seconds.

Nothing.

Obviously.

One hour later

I'm watching American Idol for the first time in weeks. I'm excited, I finally have the TV to myself tonight and it's not results night. I'm settling more comfortably into the sofa when I suddenly hear Pinks' 'You and your hand' intro blaring from my room. I roll my eyes to myself pretending to be annoyed, even though I was alone and speed walk to my room.

I see the light.

I can't help that silly huge smile from forming on my face.

I see his name

'Edward calling'

-Hello (I sound cold, even to my own ears)

-Bella (he half moans half sings my name)

-Hi… (I breathe my greeting out in a sigh, flopping down on my bed a huge grin plastered on my face, American Idol forgotten.)

All is forgotten as he begins to speak, filling me with warmth and some strange need to dance around the room. All that matters is right here. Right now. This moment.

A/N: Hi, me again Yeah….this was me trying to prove to myself that I' not all that cynical and that I can actually write a happy ending. Oh. And in really life, I'm still waiting.


End file.
